


Staving off boredom

by Trippenwhitz



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 22:16:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7139792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trippenwhitz/pseuds/Trippenwhitz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What's an antsy, impatient muscle-man for the Crew going to do when all's you have is time on your hands?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Staving off boredom

The wait was taking its toll on the both of them, housed up in this unused Crew safe-house they were borrowing. Droog was wholly unimpressed that their only source of vision was to crack the blinds, naturally they were caked in dust, of course, and whilst he refused to express his distaste out loud, Hearts was making up in that regard for the both of them.

  
“When the fuck is this guy gonna be turnin’ up Droog!?” Hearts paced impatiently, huffing and grumbling at both the laborious situation, and the creaking, rotted floorboards he kept straining as he passed over; Droog’s temple was developing a little twitch of annoyance from that particular repetitive action.

  
“Look, I know ya like to keep things professional an’ all that, prissy pieces ‘a paper ‘n documents all folded up neat like some dainty, quality silk handkerchief in yer jacket, but where the fuck is this guy?” He gestured towards Droog’s chest in exasperation, where he knew Droog kept anything and everything important.

  
Droog would have agreed with Boxcars, both the atmosphere, and the abode were certainly lacking, not that they could do anything about that given the circumstances. “That’s simply the way of it, Boxcars, we wait.” He replied, an edge of irritation lacing his tone, not even bothering to turn his head as he continued to gaze out of the filthy blinds. “If I was aware of when they would be arriving, I wouldn’t be glued to these deplorable blinds, or even this house if I had my way.” He fully intended to burn this place to the ground once they were done here tonight, Crew property or not; perhaps Deuce could be put to use for that, stir up the neighbourhood a little, the neighbouring residents did all seem far too cosy despite being so very close to the Midnight Crew after all, it was only fitting.

  
There was a dull thud behind Droog, his partner having kicked at an aged sofa in frustration; if Hearts’ muffled cursing was any indication, a rather sturdy one at that as well. The pacing stopped, Hearts was tired of this rickety old house, worried he’d go tumbling through the rotting floorboards into the basement below any minute, and Droog wasn’t being helpful whatsoever.  
“All I’m wantin’ is a damn time.” He grumbled, folding his arms and resigning himself to perching on the arm of the offending couch. “Bein’ organised an’ intelligent ain’t grounds ta keep info from me y’know? Yer not the boss here, same rank, different skills; bein’ able to write shit neat with them calio-goraphy skills you’ve got don’t mean shit.”

  
Hearts continued to ramble and vent, more to himself than Droog, and just as well given that the complaining had fallen on deaf ears. Droog wasn’t necessarily concentrating on whomever would be arriving, always in control, he knew exactly what he was doing, though the same couldn’t be said for Boxcars.

  
Despite their conflicting personalities, the two of them always did make an efficient team, it was everything that lead up to their actual job that caused the two of them to clash; Whilst Droog was indeed the moor cool-tempered of the two, his patience easily wore thin when his colleague acted up like this, his brow already beginning to furrow. In contrast, Boxcars had no constraint to speak of, if he was unhappy, then he’d waste no time in making a show of his displeasure.

  
\------------------------------

  
An hour had passed, and still nothing changed, Boxcars still fuming and risking pacing from one decrepit location to the next, Droog had since pulled up a chair, grimacing at the state of it and had busied himself with making it suitable for Human seating, having swept a now marred handkerchief over the dusty surface, disgusting.  
“’ey Droog.” Hearts called, grabbing Droog’s attention, successfully managing to draw his disinterested gaze this time. “Why’d ya bring me along for this?” He questioned, sounding defeated, a little less frustrated than he had been “No reason not ta bring Deuce along, ya know ‘m not the most patient person ever, hell, ‘m not even useful right now, we ain’t even roughin’ this fella up!”

  
Droog sighed in response, of course he was going to start questioning him. “As you said earlier, I’m not your boss.” He still sounded annoyed, he could do without the conversation honestly, though it wasn’t as though they had anything else they could do with their time, yet. “You came here of your own accord, you had no obligation to join me, however, through simple process of deduction, you were the best candidate from my dismal pool of selection.” Which was essentially the nicest way for Droog to say that he liked Boxcars’ company.

  
As much as Boxcars might grumble in response, he couldn’t argue with what Droog had said. Shrugging and folding his arms he came to idle by Droog’s side, leaning on the chair somewhat, with the old thing creaking under the strain, to both Droog’s distaste and concern.  
“Fair point. Startin’ to think you picked me so I could start tearin’ this place apart…wouldn’t mind doin’ that honestly.”  
Droog sighed in frustration, side-eyeing his partner, the burly man looming over him. “I’m saving that for Deuce, he’s not had much action lately, and I won’t deny that I’d very much enjoy seeing this place ablaze; it won’t be standing after tonight.”

  
“Huh.” Boxcars piped in. “So…you’re sayin’ we can do whatever we want ta this dump?” The sudden intrigue in his voice was evident, his head began darting around, looking for things he’d have fun smashing the most.  
“In theory, yes.” Droog interrupted. “Though I’d prefer you didn’t kick the dust up in here, I know you’re rather…lacking, when it comes to finesse, and you’ll get carried away.” He glared up at Boxcars. “Don’t.” His tone flat and cold, as close to an order as they came.

  
Boxcars huffed beside his partner, again frustrated, mostly because he was back to boredom. “Well whaddya expect us ta do? Sit on our asses for shit knows how long!? Christ Droog, ‘s like ya just brought me here ta torment me.” Droog’s stony stare gradually grew the slightest smirk “Hmph, perhaps.” He stated in amusement. “I do need some form of entertainment whilst we wait, and your periodic suffering suits me just fine.”

  
Rather than take the bait, getting increasingly frustrated, and further satisfying Droog’s sick sense of humour, Boxcar’s grinned. “Entertainment huh?” He leaned down, his grizzled, stubby face partially entering Droog’s personal bubble; he chuckled low and dark, teeth showing as he grinned mischievously…or was it maliciously? There was little difference when it came to Boxcars.  
“If ya wanted that, all’s ya had ta do was ask~” He rumbled, all’s that was missing from the scene here were waggling eyebrows.

  
Naturally, Droog was already in the process of leaning backwards, rather unimpressed at the sudden invasion. A hand was pressed against Boxcars’ chest, a less than subtle hint that he shouldn’t move an inch further, not that this would deter the brute in the grand scheme of things. “Boxcars, you’re pushing my boundaries, I’d rather you didn’t.” Warning number one, however his tone was not anyway near as stern as his earlier ‘order’.

  
Boxcars dropped the grin, though he didn’t relinquish the personal space he’d gained. Slinking an arm over the back of Droog’s chair he continued his advance. “Ya sure about that? How long’s it been, two weeks, a month? I ain’t too sure on that, but it’s not been long enough fer me ta forget.” His close-shaven jaw flexed as he mused over his words, thinking what best to say to incite Droog, he’d done it before, he could do it again. “’a know full well yer playin’ me Droog, you’ve gone an’ done it plenty of times now.” He closed the lost distance once more, Droog was running out of room to safely lean out of Boxcars’ advancements, and the slim Crew member’s hand had gone from pushing to grasping at his partners shirt, seeking purchase. “Might have a thick skull, but that don’t mean I ain’t caught onto yer act, as good as it is ya damned fraud.” A heavy hand landed on Droog’s thigh, sealing the deal.

  
Droog had developed a rather furious frown, he always found people that didn’t listen to him infuriating. “You’re testing my limits.” Warning number two, clear as day, however, whilst Boxcars might have believed he was swiftly gaining the upper hand, and in turn control of the situation, little did Boxcar’s know that Droog’s command of the situation, their entire day even, had never faltered. Droog stared his partner down, regarding that smug, suggestive smirk the Crew’s muscle was wearing, apathetically of course.

  
“You’re certainly gambling here, I’ve given no hints that’d I’d be remotely interested in anything you have to offer.” His fingers curled into a fist, grasping at the hem of Boxcars’ shirt, rather aggressively, uncaring for any harm done to the fabric, it wasn’t his clothing after all. “Besides-“ He tugged on the brute’s shirt, edging his partner closer “-there’s nothing stopping me from taking a knife to your throat, or drawing my pistol and aiming directly at your heart; you’ve put yourself in a very vulnerable situation here.” A threat, but a light one, considering they were coming from the mouth of what was arguably the Crew’s most dangerous member.

  
Boxcar’s wasn’t deterred in the slightest, honestly, he’d dealt with this all before, if anything it was kinda hot. When he was pulled closer towards the lithe, dapper Crew member he couldn’t resist giving his thigh a suggestive squeeze, subtly sliding treacherously further to what Droog likely proclaimed forbidden territory. “an’ what if I wanna take that risk? ‘m not a gamblin’ man Droog, but I’d take my chances fer a piece ‘a this, yer a good lay!” He sniggered, buttering Droog up with flattery normally won him over, not that he was being particularly charming just yet.

  
“If yer worried ‘bout me damagin’ yer clothes, don’t worry, ‘a know you always play up when ‘a do, I’ll be real delicate, heh.” With that, he sealed the deal; his curious hand travelled the breadth of Droog’s thigh, delving where few did without Droog’s say-so, coming to cup his crotch in full, Boxcars’ hand more than large enough to encompass the entirety.

  
Droog grunted, semi-surprised. About time, he did love to play games with Boxcars, though with the frequency they’d done this, it seemed Boxcars was wising up to Droog’s wily nature. Rather than responding, he simply parted his legs a little, giving more room for Boxcars’ ministrations, allowing the heat from those delectably expansive hands to do their work. His own hand tightened further at the hem of his partners shirt, knuckles hot white, gaze nonchalant, his spare hand balanced on the seat of the chair, ensuring he didn’t fall, not that he could with that pillar of an arm planted firmly at his crotch, thumb kneading the expensive garb, pressing at his base through the fabric. Boxcars palm was rubbing slow with his fingers groping profusely, adopting a gentle, steady rhythm which Droog could appreciate.

  
The groping was short-lived however, with Droog battling the offending hand away and coming to a sudden stand, still gripping Boxcars’ shirt though, he heaved him forwards. “If you’re going to be a distraction, you can at least put your hands to work whilst I keep watch.” Neither of them had to go far, the only change being Droog now leaning forwards to keep staring through the blinds, as well as the growing bulge in his pants.

  
Chuckling at Droog’s orders, he shrugged and complied, allowing the man his space only briefly before the hulking Crew member came up behind his slimmer partner, pressing his body up against Droog, one arm coming around to rest upon his chest, knocking the tie askew, helping keep his partner upright along with him. His chest pressed up against the back of his shorter partner, with his free hand coming to rest at Droog’s hip, covering it almost entirely. His face pressed against the back of his neck, lips flush at the bare skin there; Droog wasn’t much for acts of romance, but Boxcars did indeed love irritating him, he couldn’t resist.

  
A man like Boxcar’s loved to indulge, take in all the little things, anything from hearing the steady breathing of his partner, catching in his throat when a large hand would caress across the jut of his hip, edging closer towards a slowly tenting crotch; even the subtle curve of Droog’s back as Boxcar’s pressed in against him was something he could appreciate. There was a warmth radiating between them, the close quarters and gentle friction amidst them encouraging the two, Droog unmoving, but tensing beneath Boxcars’ ministrations, whilst the larger man’s hands wandered his body, exploring the rarely visited, intimate, forbidden areas Droog would kill most others for daring to venture near.

  
Droog’s apathy was beginning to falter, as much as he tried to concentrate on the darkened street facing their temporary refuge, there were far too many maddening sensations to ignore now, too many that needed to be tended to and were being sorely neglected. Frustrated with his partners pace, Droog angled his hips, leaning into the offending hand teasing along his thigh, hip, waist…everywhere but the one place he desired him.

  
Boxcar’s took the hint, chuckling gruffly, hot breath rolling across the back of Droog’s neck with the abrupt exhale. His hand slid towards Droog’s tented slacks, swift and sudden he cupped his partner generously, giving him a reassuring squeeze through the fabric. He could feel Droog repress a shudder below him, the hasty contact a clear surprise despite his impatience, taking that for approval, Boxcars wasted no time in tending to Droog’s cravings.

  
Boxcars’ calloused hands roamed and groped, one fixated with smoothing the breadth of his partner’s chest, careful not to crease or tear at the fabric, the other lewdly clasping at his crotch, rubbing at Droog through the layers. Boxcars’ fingers traced the edges of his hardness, up and down in a staggered rhythm, shaping his palm around his bulge as Droog struggled to maintain his concentration, resist the temptation to squirm uncharacteristically below his brash, enthusiastic partner.

Droog was forced to lean back, an internal struggle he’d had to succumb to, it was either rely on the support of his cohort, or stumble and be subject to whatever Boxcars pleased; Droog wouldn’t give him that level of satisfaction. He grumbled in response to the firm grinding at his backside, Boxcars was enjoying himself, and Droog could feel just how much. He remained stony, not acknowledging how excited his tormentor was…until the bastard popped a button. Droog passively allowed his zipper to be dragged down, not objecting, Boxcars had free reign after he’d undone that button so suddenly, treating him to a moment of relief, which soon turned into continuous bouts of the same.

  
Boxcars was greedily groping in the finely tailored depths of Droog’s pants, palms washing over Droog’s hardness, but keeping it confined within those silken briefs as he squeezed and encompassed Droog’s dick, no teasing any longer, treating Droog to the rough heat of a welcoming hand, gradually working him over with slow, but purposeful pumps, difficult given their position, but there were so many other things to make up for that; slow, blissful grinding, the smooth, flawless skin at the back of Droog’s neck paid careful attention to by Boxcar’s flush, hungry lips, his stubbled jaw grazing across the skin as he revelled in hearing the slightest noises Boxcars could produce from his partner. The occasional, sharp, masked exhale of breath from Droog drove him wild.

  
Diamonds Droog had reached his limit, enough playing around, the hand working him over in his pants was a maddening sensation, too much foreplay for his tastes. His hand grabbed at the thick wrist delving into his underwear, pulling him out, and pushing him off in a flurry, Boxcars blinking in shock as he was shoved off. The gloomy streets coating their safe house in darkness were all but forgotten by Droog, he had no interest in ‘keeping watch’ any longer.  
“Enough.” He stated, turning towards his heavily aroused partner, a palm pushing on his chest, back and towards the aged couch, his other hand already loosening tie, it was time they got to business.

  
\------------------------

  
“Took ya long enough.” Boxcars grumbled, shrugging his shirt off with an attitude, still, his eyes were glued to Droog’s form as he stripped, grumpy or not he was going to appreciate the show before him…even if the meticulously neat folding of a suit jacket wasn’t the most enticing of shows.  
“Wrong, I was precisely on time.” Droog replied, smoothing over his suit-jacket before starting on his shirt buttons, slowly revealing his bare chest.

  
Boxcars raised and incredulous brow, then it dawned on him and he couldn’t help but laugh, grinning at his devious partner. “Ya planned this! Fuck me Droog yer a wily bastard, I knew there was a good reason fer bringin’ me.” Droog blinked, then met Boxcar’s gaze, his face revealing a smug smirk. “We have precisely one hour before our contact arrives, that should be more than enough time for you, correct?”

  
“Really? You’ve gone an’ planned all this shit! Fuck. Ya played me like yer always doin’!” Boxcars slapped a hand on his partners shoulder bold and brazen, shaking him with the force. “C’mere, I’m done with this shit.” He pulled Droog forwards, closing the careful distance between them, eagerly leaning down to plant a heated kiss upon his lips.

  
The burly man wasn’t tender, a hand gripped at Droog’s still-clothed shoulder, the slimmer man bare-chested but still very much clothed, and pressed his larger set of lips against Droog’s thinner pair. A tough-skinned hand slid off Droog’s shirt, gentle but with devious purpose.

  
Droog let him do as he pleased, though fighting back with more of a bite than Boxcars expected, the cold-psychotic allowed him to remove what was left of his unbuttoned shirt, it was thrown to the pile, Droog wasn’t concerned, Boxcars’ was aware of the limits he had on clothing, it would be pristine, and that left him to focus on the better, more interesting things, like the growing need in his boxers, and the one pressing against his own exposed hip was hard to ignore, especially given how little attention Boxcars had received himself, that stopped now.

  
“Sit.” Droog ordered, prompt and slightly breathless as he broke away from Boxcars hungry mouth, eyes travelling to the chest before him, his deft fingers already busying away at what remained of Boxcars’ abandoned buttons, graceful and efficient, revealing a large, barrel chest. His palms swept over the skin there briefly, appreciating the form before him, powerful, built and impressive; the brute had a rather prominent gut, though he wore it well, his musculature complimenting every facet of his form, not really to Droog’s taste, but…he’d make an exception for Boxcars, every time.

  
Droog urged him towards the couch, Boxcar’s eagerly complying, he knew what he was in store for. Droog raised a stony brow at Boxcars’ ever-grinning face, and then he knelt, settled between those spacious legs, but he wasn’t one to waste time like Boxcars would, they had a schedule to keep after all. He shifted up, already unfastening the belt restricting his partner, the clinking of metal against metal a rather satisfying chime as he pulled it free. He swiftly lowered the zipper, arm brushing across Boxcars’ protruding crotch, earning a gasp from his partner, which quickly turned into an abrupt, enthusiastic chuckle.

  
Disregarding his partners antics, Droog grasped at the hem of his pants, boxers and all, tugging at them. Boxcars obliged him and lifted his hips up, lewdly thrusting towards Droog’s face, he couldn’t resist, the opportunity had been there, why waste it when he was so close already…that’s when he made his mistake.

  
Boxcars’ thrusting at that angle, in tandem with Droog shedding his garments ever lower, he’d forgotten just how hard his dexterous partner had gotten him, resulting in his cock springing forwards, finally free of its confines, and slapping Droog right in his face. There was a tense pause, Droog unmoving, and Boxcars not daring to, that had happened before, time itself seemed to stand still, as stiff as the dick resting against Droog’s cheek, and nimble fingers gripped around the base, breaking the tension as Droog began moving once more, his face angling so that he could press his thin lips to the side of the shaft, his mouth parted, and Boxcars’ was subjected to the delicious heat of a tongue darting out, running along the tender skin there, his shoulders relaxed and his grin became dopey, he didn’t fuck up.

  
Boxcars’ eyes were glued to the skilful partner between his legs, he couldn’t tear them away as he witnessed his typically aloof partner wrap his mouth around the side of his dick, the rhythmic squeezing at his base had developed into lazy pumping. Half-lidded eyes followed Droog’s head as he allowed his mouth and tongue to travel along just the one side now, not tending to nearly enough for Boxcars’ satisfaction.

  
Seeing Droog’s tongue venture out to lap and curl expertly was a sight in and of itself, not messy, but there was something so incredibly lewd about seeing Droog’s tongue roaming across his dick, his eyes closed in either concentration or ecstasy, Boxcars could never tell with Droog.

  
Droog, impatient as always didn’t keep the act up for long, he’d quickly began attending to the rest of Boxcars, his hand and mouth at work, always nursing the lonely areas almost obsessively, making sure nothing was left to waste as Boxcars’ covered his face with his hands, moaning into them, refusing to touch, it made the experience all the better.

  
Fingers would repeatedly roam oh so close to the head, briefly meeting the glands before tortuously continuing on, his mouth always elsewhere, either delving low to his base, deep in Boxcars’ heady scent, always a bite to it, but not unpleasant. Eventually Droog shifted, leaning in closer, shoulders hunching as he ducked low again, one hand scrambling for support on a thick thigh, he was going for the prize this time.

  
Droog had stopped moving, Boxcars had felt the sudden shifting from below, the movements making his cock twitch, the tip already leaking under Droog’s care. Boxcar’s looked down, coming face to face with Droog’s eerily focused gaze, eyes open as he hovered at the head of his dick. Before Boxcars even had time to process just what was happening his partner had already parted his lips, encompassing the head, the sensation of a tongue flicking out, tasting and testing, and Boxcar’s couldn’t hold back the sudden buck of his hips, ass briefly lifted from the couch as all self-control left him for a moment.

  
Droog knew what he was doing, and instead of pulling back he simply took more of that cock into his mouth, tongue doing its best to swirl around the breadth of Boxcars’ leaking dick as he made the large man whine wildly above him.  
  
Boxcars just didn’t have it in him to resist touching for this long, a large hand had already grasped at the back of Droog’s head, hair pulled taut between his fingers as he urged Droog on, almost forcing him down. Droog went along with it easily enough, albeit with a scowl he bobbed lower; Boxcars was a strain on his practiced jaw, only able to take so much of the dick at a time, still, half was better than nothing. 

Droog breathed heavily out of his nose, determined to keep himself planted firmly with his lips around the cock, his jaw aching as he sucked, swirled and salivated around it, always coming right up to the head before being urged downwards again, his partner intoxicated under his attentions. His hand continued to pump all the while, at this point he was practically edging Boxcars, he could taste it, feel it in the way those fingers tugged at his hair, the way those muscles arms pressed him back down over and over, the breathlessness in his grunts, chest rising and falling at a rapid pace; the large man’s head began to loll, no longer concerned with watching, just experiencing the sensory overload, and that’s when Droog decided, enough.

\---------------  
  
Positions were switched, with Droog lazily taking the place of his partner on the couch, lengthways and lax as his burly partner hovered above him. Droog appreciated the way Boxcars marvelled over his limber form, as well as the way those rough hands were travelling along his legs, almost obsessively, and Droog was revelling in the sensation.

  
Boxcar’s back was bowed over his partner, both of them just barely fitting on the couch together, it wasn’t important, Boxcars had other things in mind, like those unappreciated and delectable legs he was practically manhandling. He paid no heed to his partners twitching arousal, Droog was slowly taking care of that himself as Boxcars ducked down, planting his lips at the jutting bone of Droog’s hips, and slowly working his way down, beard scruff brushing against the skin of Droog’s thigh, thicker than you’d think for a man of Droog’s build, their supple but powerful form often hidden behind well-tailored suit-pants, Boxcar’s couldn’t get enough of them.

  
The muscular Crew member traversed Droog’s legs fervently, with hands scouring ever surface and crevice, his mouth delving to the inner and lower thighs, raising one leg at a time as he worshipped them with equal care, and then began the blunt scraping of fingernails. Red marks were left along the thighs in their wake, unseen by Boxcar’s who was indulging, eyes closed, face dipped and busy between generous thigh muscles, a scolding, large tongue occasionally venturing out to lap at the tender, rarely touched areas; Droog gasped.

  
The sudden rough texture of nails against Droog’s skin had been a turning point, the beard itself was euphoric enough as he’d laid back, sprawled, allowing Boxcars to do all the work, and when things had taken a turn for the rougher his patience had once again worn thin. His hand ventured to his partners large head, pulling him up from his near-trance between his legs, thick tufts of hair between his deft fingers tugged upwards to meet his colleague face to face.  
Their eyes met, Droog’s heavy-lidded eyes adopting a frustrated scowl, he was having trouble concentrating, the rasp in his voice giving him away as he spoke up, a crack in his voice as he struggled to remain indifferent- “Fuck me.” Ordered the cold psychotic, and yes, it was an order indeed.

  
Hearts grinned greedily, he’d known Droog’s impatience was going to kick in any time soon, and without wasting a beat he’d shuffled up closer to his partner, allowing those legs he’d been tending to the option of wrapping around his thickset waist. Boxcars leant over his near-panting friend, he’d really gotten Droog going, he’d learnt how to handle Droog a long time ago, and staring over him now he was damn glad, handsome bastard.

  
With a hand supporting himself, Hearts ducked down to press his lips against Droog’s lonely pair, a distinct popping sound coming from down below, the sound of a cap, and whatever Boxcar’s other hand was up to was soon answered. With a roll of Boxcars’ hips, Droog pulled his own legs up more in reaction, and a grunt came from Droog as a shockingly cold sensation met with his backside, thick slicked fingers rubbing at his entrance, of course Boxcar’s had come prepared…or rummaged around in Droog’s own jacket.

  
Droog bit impatiently at his partners lower lip, he’d sorely missed the rougher sensations, and this was his way of encouraging Boxcars to be a little less gentle, Droog had no time for ‘love-making’. Instead of getting bitten back, Droog found a tongue seeking purchase past his thin lips, eager to wrestle for the dominance Boxcars had already secured. Droog’s hand gripped at a burly shoulder in response to a finger abruptly making its way into him, he was being prepped, and none too gently; thick fingers and a slim body made the sensation burn, but this only added to Droog’s near-foreign euphoria, Boxcar’s knew just how to deal with him, and unfortunately, he treasured that.

  
Tongue’s tussled and knuckles bore white as the two of them tensed up, gripping and groaning together as Boxcar’s crudely finger-fucked his companion, having wasted little time before adding a second finger, Droog had done his best not to clench or groan in pain or discomfort the entire time, stubborn to a fault even now. The brawny Crew did his best to prep his partner, stretching and pumping him at a pace most others would whimper and whine to, not Droog, but Boxcar’s could feel him breaking; his lips weren’t quite as hungry, tongue losing its energy, the legs around his torso relaxing, weakening; that’s how Boxcar’s knew Droog was ready.

  
He pulled his fingers free abruptly, a surprised exhale from Droog breaking their mouth’s apart. Boxcar’s used this opportunity to sit back up, settling once more with Droog’s ass more or less planted in his lap, he didn’t bother waiting this time.  
A lubed up dick was fixed firmly between Droog’s presented and prepped cheeks, rubbing steadily before Boxcar’s sudden tested the waters, aiming and eagerly pushing the head of his dick against Droog’s entrance.

  
The two of them were always a little incompatible size-wise, though it never stopped them, pain or pleasure, Droog always managed to take Boxcar’s dick as well as anyone his partner’s size was capable of, he was stubborn like that. Still, Droog would always grit his teeth when Boxcar’s pushed the head in, but the sensation or relief as Boxcar’s would slowly, but surely bottom out was well worth the initial twinge of pain.

  
Boxcar’s gazed down at the Crew that was gradually taking more and more of his cock, periodic but powerful thrusts of his hips made sure he filled his partner out little by little, the legs propped on his shoulders tensing around his neck each time he’d thrust a little deeper.  
Thighs were smacking against one another now, the two of them closer than they’d been all night, panting heavy breath’s, both their chests rising and falling and Boxcar’s quickened the pace, his hands coming to steady Droog at his hips, holding him in place as he pulled out and pushed back in none too kindly.

  
Sweat was dripping off Boxcar’s brow as he struggled to contain himself, the heat of Droog around him irresistible, he wanted to pound him raw, grab his skinny little waist and drive him into the back of the couch moaning and whimpering as the broad-shouldered man above him made damn sure he’d have trouble sitting for the next few days…and what was stopping him? It’s what Droog wanted, wasn’t it? Boxcar’s chuckled to himself, wiping at his brow with a forearm before pulling Droog closer, almost manhandling him as the Crew brute adjusted, planting one foot firmly on the floor; he was gonna fuck Droog into next week.

  
The leaner Crew has hardly any time to adjust, only just having settled around Boxcar’s immense girth, and yet here he was, legs sprawled in the air, calves spread wide and grasped in each hand by the man above him, bent over and pounding into him, bottoming out for the first proper time without warning. It was too much for Droog, the unexpected act prompting a rather uncharacteristic sound to escape its way out of Droog’s chest, he’d regret that later. His hands found their way to his own backside, spreading his own cheeks further in the hope that it would give his partner more purchase, and balance out the overwhelming lack of control Droog was feeling right now, it was foreign and deplorable, and he hated that he _enjoyed_ it.

  
Boxcar’s took great pleasure in hearing the sounds he was causing Droog to create, only encouraging him to tighten his grip on Droog’s shins and pound away at the shapely ass below him. He could feel the legs in his palms quivering, his partner losing any control he’d though he might have had earlier in the night, good, he’d messed with Boxcar’s enough for one night. Each thrust of his cock back into the depths of Droog earnt Boxcar’s a twitch from the unattended dick bouncing before him as his thighs slapped rigorously against Droog’s behind, freely fucking him with reckless abandon, good god droog was a good lay.

  
Boxcar’s couldn’t get enough of how Droog looked when he bottomed out in him, seeing him take something so large and so willingly, and watching him quiver and pant uncontrollably as Boxcar’s cock disappeared deep inside of his partner, well, he was sorry to say he didn’t have a camera with him. He gave Droog the treat of one extra powerful thrust, putting his weight behind the force, he was relentless, and he was close, they both were and Boxcar’s had no plans on letting up.

  
Droog was weak and needy, the room a blur, the decrepit state of where they were long forgotten, he could barely focus on his partner even, his mind and body purely focused on the dick pumping in and out at a pace he could barely stand, it was all he could do not to whine his partners name, but even in his haze, Droog would never allow himself to stoop so low, leaking dick or not.

  
Boxcar’s chest was heaving; their session taking its toll, and holy fuck was he close to blowing. He couldn’t tell if it was intentional, if Droog really was this good, but each and every time he’d thrust back into Droog his partner would clench around his dick and release a breathless groan. Droog’s fingers would grip at the couch a little harder, knuckles straining white, hands lost as they searched for something to grasp onto, anything, Boxcar’s wasn’t an option, too aggressive, too hasty, he’d lost control a long time ago.

  
The couch was near-rocking with the power of Boxcar’s hips, his thrusts becoming staggered, adopting a broken rhythm, losing control just the same as his overwhelmed partner as they both came to their climax. The sounds of heady breathing, skin slapping skin sudden and stimulating, the creaking floorboards and straining couch, both of them were deaf to them, each absorbed in the sensations of one another, and Boxcar’s couldn’t hold back any more.

  
The largest Crew grunted, pulling out of his partner with no warning, scooting up closer and practically scooping up the slim Crew in his arms, the space between them non-existent as Boxcar’s furiously frotted up against Droog’s own long forgotten cock.

  
Seconds was all it took for Droog to cum, legs falling useless like jelly at Boxcar’s sides as he took both of their cocks in hand, letting him tend to him as he pleased, he didn’t have the energy nor the will to tense anymore, and then his Boxcar’s came too. The encroaching Crew covered Droog’s navel, weeks of pent up frustration splattering onto the man, and coincidentally the couch below him.

  
Boxcar’s continued pumping them both, slow and tender as he milked the both of them dry, Droog far more sensitive than himself, mustering the energy to brush Boxcar’s large hands away when things were becoming a little too sensitive. “Stop.” He struggled to say, he hadn’t caught his breath yet just yet.

  
Boxcar’s obliged, taking the time now to look over his work, beaming, quite pleased with the mess he’d made of Droog…no doubt he’d be chastised for that in just a few moments. He simply watched Droog from above, the marred chest rising and falling as his breathing fell back into a regular rhythm over time. His partner’s eyes were closed, savouring the brief afterglow, and it was moments like this Boxcar’s truly appreciated his co-worker, after all, there’s no better way to get your uptight buddy to relax than a good ass-fucking after all, heh.


End file.
